The Unity (© Bryan Way)
Page 1 Sometimes I have to wonder where my
friends get their sick sense of humor. Most of the time, all I have to do is
look in the mirror. It never really occurred to me that jokes about Jesus just
aren’t that funny to most people. Maybe it’s just because I think Jesus is a
funny word. Considering the nature of the holiday (i.e. its real
meaning), I got one of the most appropriate gifts I’ve ever gotten.
EDGAR: (Walks
in bedroom, hands JEFF three thick masonry nails, mallet) So Jeffy, what do you
do with these?
JEFF: Nail
Jesus to the cross?
EDGAR: (Hands
JEFF a copy of The Passion on DVD) And here’s an instructional video.
JEFF:
(Laughter) I was going to buy this eventually… but I was too embarrassed.
EDGAR: Here,
take the whole box. (Hands JEFF box of masonry nails) I don’t need them.
It’s funny to
me. I’ve tried showing it to all my friends, no one laughed quite as hard as I
did, though those who know Edgar had to give him full marks for creativity. I
guess you could say my last chance to give it the appropriate presentation was
to my girlfriend, Alice, who lives about an hour north of me. I live in Newtown Square, Pennsylvania. She lives in Allentown. We met at college. This winter break has been the first time
we’ve spent apart since the beginning of the year, when we first met. I’ve
been able to spend a lot of time with my friends who I rarely get to see, so
it’s been surprisingly easy for me to get on.
For her, it’s
been less than easy. This year brought about the revelation that she has very
few close friends, in fact, all her male friends in the past were simply trying
to get in her pants. Her relationships with any of them never lasted longer
than two months, so she’s not used to the emotional stability that I’ve
provided her, and time apart is not exactly nurturing that stability.
Don’t get me
wrong; we aren’t falling apart, certainly not. It’s simply the fact that I
frequently have something to do when I’m not with her and she does not, which makes
her lonely and paranoid. I’m sure that’s something a lot of young men laugh
at, but I take it completely seriously. If I get the inkling that she’s
unhappy I’m at her house in less than a few hours. I couldn’t bear the thought
of her suffering, and I can’t simply change the channel in my brain. The
balance is nearly perfect: I care about her, so I go up; I care about my own
mental well being, so I go up.
It’s strange
though, this time I feel oddly… well, odd, for lack of a better term. I feel
compelled to dress warmly, mainly because my mother always says I should have
warm clothes incase I break down. I’ve never taken that seriously until now,
for some reason. I prepare myself a CD of songs to listen to, most of them
instrumentals from my favorite game series, Silent Hill. After that, I pack a
change of clothes incase the weather forces me to stay the night up there.
It’s 8:00 pm, an hour after I wanted to start up
there. After putting up an away message, (Gone to see Alice. May not return tonight. Call cell if urgent.) I take my box of
DVDs that I take everywhere and head downstairs. It’s my collection of films
by my favorite directors: Cronenberg, Hitchcock, Lynch, and Romero. I always
leave a vacant spot for current favorite; The Passion currently occupies
that spot for transportation purposes only.
I hug my mom and
tell her I’ll be careful, then make my way outside and put the box in the back
seat of the running car, where my mallet and box of nails are waiting. I must
give Edgar credit; all components of the gift are of high quality, especially
the nails. If I were going to spike Jesus with any kind of nails, it would be
these. They’re jet black and they start out thick and come to a nice point,
not only that, but they’re designed to nail wood into concrete.
I laugh at
myself as I get in the car, I’m almost totally ignoring the fact that it’s
starting to snow a little bit in favor of obsessing over the minute details of
the gift Edgar’s given me. It’s so characteristic of myself. I slip the CD in
the stereo and back myself out of the driveway. For a moment I consider
listening to the radio to see if there are any delays or road closings or
anything like that, but not only can I not stand commercials and popular music,
I also wouldn’t know any alternate routes to take and wouldn’t know where to
get on or off.
Finally, things
are mentally coming into focus, the grainy black road in front of me, the rows
of ill lit suburban houses receding into the darkness, looming enormous and
blocking out the sky seemingly with purpose, and finally the thin white specks
drifting into the windshield and dusting the ground. It’s that peaceful kind
of snow that doesn’t stick and looks presentable. I click the wipers of my
2000 Toyota Solara on so I can keep my eyes out for any stupid pedestrians. [ Continue to page 2 ] |